


Things To Do In Larjeera When You're Drunk

by silverlining99



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: F/M, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-04
Updated: 2009-10-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 23:22:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverlining99/pseuds/silverlining99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For space_married: Accidental/Fake Marriage #11: Bones wakes up in Space!Vegas wearing a wedding ring with situational amnesia. Jim's nowhere to be found...but there's a strange woman in the bed...who looks a lot like Jim. (Bonus genderswap/married!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things To Do In Larjeera When You're Drunk

_"This," Jim said, his glass raised high, his voice thick and almost slurred, "has got to be the best idea I have ever had."_

~*~*~*~*~*~

On the first full day of a week-long shore leave on Larjeera, which has managed to make a planet-wide industry of every imaginable tourist trap, Leonard McCoy wakes up in his hotel bed with a headache throbbing behind the bridge of his nose, the unmistakable aftertaste of Romulan ale lingering sourly on his tongue, and an extremely naked woman in his arms.

He's not, all things told, inclined to inquire much further, at least not until he's had a hot shower and about a gallon of coffee. Still groggy from sleep, he wraps his arm more firmly around the woman's waist and nuzzles his face against her shoulder. As his mind registers the bits and pieces, the curves and dips pressed against him and the soft breast that his hand finds and cups instinctively, his cock stirs against the welcoming cradle of her ass.

She murmurs quietly under her breath, first a sighed something too quiet to hear, then: "you awake?" as she snakes her arm under his and drops her hand back to grope for his cock and squeeze it gently. He rocks forward into her hand and groans, slides his hand down her stomach and between her legs. "Oh, s'nice," she mumbles as he rubs circles against her clit with the flat of two fingers. "Mmm... little harder, remember we figured out -- yeah. _Yeah_." She sighs and raises her knee and braces her foot, on top of his knee instead of the actual mattress, abandons his erection to palm the inside of her own thigh to hold her leg up as her hips push into his hand. "Shit, shit, like that... god, that's just fucking amazing."

McCoy mouths the back of her neck below the line of her short-cropped hair, smells the tell-tale scents of sweat and alcohol and sex. He dips his fingers low, tests her. "Okay?" he asks quietly, and licks slowly along the back of her ear.

Her response is to shift, nearly flattening out onto her back even as she hooks her leg further back, over his. McCoy inches his torso back, his hips forward, and reaches around her, low, to guide his cock. "Fuck," she whispers, and palms her breasts. McCoy pushes up onto his elbow, grips her hip with his other hand. He watches her face - closed eyes, strong features, full lips that she sucks and licks and bites as he pumps into her, careful to keep his strokes short and even so he won't slip out.

He can't, he realizes, for the life of him remember her name -- if he ever got it. What he's got is a vague sense that the night had started off as nothing special, just drinks in a bar with Jim like countless other nights over the years, and had ended here, in an exhausted, fucked-out tangle of limbs. Everything in between eludes him --though he finds he has the firm conviction that she's a moaner, a loud one.

"Touch yourself, baby," he mutters, wanting to hear it. He slips his hand from her hip along her thigh, hooks behind her knee and bends her leg up, holds her spread wide. She pushes a hand between her legs, almost tentative about it, scrunches her face as her fingers skitter over her own flesh. "Yeah," McCoy mutters as she tenses and goes tight around him. "Come on, honey, come *on*."

She digs her head down into the pillow, looks almost pained. She's close, so close, but her hand falters. "I -- I can't," she whimpers. McCoy growls a little and releases her leg so he can cover her hand with his own and push her fingers to her own flesh, guide them in firm, small strokes. Her hips jerk, caught between their hands and the insistent, steady slide of McCoy's cock, and she scrabbles with her free hand, clutches at the sheets. Her lips part, swollen and red and wet, and every thrust pushes a low, keening sound from deep in her throat.

And finally - "oh. oh fuck," she gasps, and opens eyes he knows as well as his own damn reflection, and arches her spine as her muscles spasm and clench around his cock. "*Bones*."

McCoy slams deep and comes hard, shock pulsing up his spine.

"Damn it, Jim," he grunts, dazed. He presses his face to her shoulder and jerks into her, riding out the release. "What the hell kind of mess have you gotten us into this time?"

Jim laughs quietly, a throaty, feminine sound that shudders with her heaving breaths. "Aww. Does that mean the honeymoon is over already?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

As it turns out, McCoy realizes with a small measure of dismay, Jim Kirk is a ballsy little fucker even _sans_ the actual balls. She has the nerve to try and brush aside McCoy's -- fairly understandable and rational, he thinks -- fit of panic. She wiggles around and presses an impossible amount of soft, smooth skin against him, starts to fit her lips across his.

He shoves her away and sits up, rubs his eyes to clear the blur from his vision, the crust from his lashes.

And another realization, a belated one: he has a gold-pressed latinum ring sitting snugly in place on a finger that's been blissfully bare for more than five years, now. "Well...fuck me," he breathes, and staggers to his feet to search out clothes. "You meant honeymoon as in _honeymoon_? We seriously got _married_?"

Jim stretches out on her belly, propped up on her elbows and kicking her feet idly in the air, crossing and uncrossing her ankles. "You seriously don't remember our wedding?" she volleys back, with an exaggerated pout. McCoy finds and yanks on his shorts and scowls at her. "That hurts, Bones, it really does."

"Jim, cut the fucking crap, would you?" McCoy rubs his temples and goes to dig in his medkit for a mild painkiller. "You know damn well what Romulan ale does to me - and _no_ , I still haven't forgiven you for that night on the bridge. Though I might be convinced to if you would just skip to the part where you explain _why in the name of God_ we're married and you're a goddamn _woman_!"

She casts a faintly annoyed glance at him, reproach at his tone in the twist of her lips, the arc of her eyebrow. McCoy is struck, for a moment, by the odd blend of strength and delicacy in her features. He can still see Jim in her, all over her, just reshaped a little, recast. She is, he thinks numbly, beautiful in the strangest of ways. "Well, it's not like _you_ were going to do it," she says blandly. "I mean, I thought your rants about the transporters were bad."

"You should probably be aware that I'm thirty seconds away from killing you."

Jim shrugs that off, turns to examining her fingers with bizarre fascination. "It was a loophole," she says absently, at last.

"What does that even _mean_?"

She huffs out a sigh and sits up. She stretches her legs out in front of her and leans back on her hands, without a trace of discomfort or shame about exposing every inch of her body. "That _means_ ," she says, "that they've got some stupid law here that requires different genders to get married - the chick at the chapel said no one really _gives_ a damn anymore, but rules are rules and that one never got officially changed."

"Okay. _And_?"

" _And_ it only says you have to be of different genders to enter into a marriage. So...loophole. Like I said. Apparently inventing this technology was easier than just changing the damn law. Bureaucracy, go figure." Jim looks up at him. "What gives, Bones? You were totally down for this last night."

"Last night I was trashed off my ass!" McCoy yells. The clatter of his own voice makes him wince as his head throbs. The painkiller, it seems, was a little too mild for shit like this. "You _agreed_ to this? What the fuck were you thinking?"

Jim scrambles off the bed and stands glaring at him, completely naked, her fists clenched at her sides. She looks utterly ridiculous and, for a strange, appealing moment, almost exactly like her old self. "I was thinking," she snaps, " that I wanted to marry you and you were actually willing! What's having a vagina if it means I also get to have you?"

Well, if that isn't a fine how-de-do, McCoy doesn't know what is. He blinks at her, stunned.

Jim settles slowly into a quieter irritation. "And I was drunk, too, so fuck you. It seemed like a good idea. I don't know."

McCoy crosses his arms over his chest and frowns deeply. "I assume, and I better be right, that this being a loophole means you haven't done anything monumentally, _unforgivably_ permanent?"

"Bones," she whines. "What kind of idiot do you -- no, don't answer that. Of course it's not permanent. I mean, sure, turns out the multiple orgasm thing is _amazing_ \-- and thanks for _that_ , by the way, I mean, _wow_ \-- but no way in hell am I trading my dick in for good, not even for you. No offense."

"How long does it last?"

Jim squints. "A day or so? I think that's what she said."

He feels immeasurable relief wash over him, at last. He tucks his thumb into his palm, worries at the band around his finger. "Thank God." Jim frowns questioningly, and McCoy rolls his eyes. "For Christ's sake, dumbass, if I'm gonna spend the rest of my life with you, I'd damn well like it to be with _you_."

Jim ducks her head for a second, and the deep breath she draws in shudders audibly. When she looks up, though, it's with a sly smile that twists over her shoulder as she saunters to the bureau. She peers into the mirror hanging above it and meets Bones's eyes in the reflection. "Are you trying to tell me you don't find me totally hot like this? I am a _knockout_ , Bones, I mean, look at me! If I were you right now, I wouldn't be able to _stop_ fucking me."

She has, McCoy thinks, a fairly decent point there. "Oh, I'm looking," he assures her, his voice rougher than he even intended. He stalks forward and traps Jim against the bureau, pinned at the hips, and wraps his arms around her waist. He holds her gaze in the mirror as he slowly licks the shell of her ear, and decides he likes the way her eyes widen before going heavy-lidded with want. "And I never said I was done fucking you. It's just nice to know I'll get the real you back."

Jim does that odd pause again, closing her eyes and seeming to steady herself before smirking a little. She presses back against McCoy, grinds her ass against his renewing erection. "Oh, so you like the real me, huh?"

"The devil you know, Jim," he points out, and grips her chin firmly to tilt her head back and angled so he can slant his lips against hers. She squirms and twists around to face him, laughs into his mouth when he lifts her onto the edge of the bureau. "Jesus. Why am I even surprised that you're just as horny as a woman as you are a man?"

"I don't know," Jim says thoughtfully, lifting the elastic of his shorts and shoving the material down. "Maybe you just _like_ being surprised by me." She wraps her legs around his waist and hisses as he nudges at her and then pushes in hard. "I mean -- oh god, Bones, yeah, just, fuck, yeah, like that -- it just about blew your mind when I proposed to you last night, but you had to know how I've felt."

McCoy yanks her off the edge of the bureau and stumbles back to the bed, collapses on it with her. She takes advantage of his distraction and rolls him under her as something tugs at the back of his mind, a blurry, fragmented memory: Jim -- the real, normal Jim -- sprawled lazily in a chair at the hotel bar. _You know your problem, Bones?_ he'd said, slow and slurred. _You don't take enough risks. You gotta throw caution to the wind sometimes!_

 _I work on a goddamn spaceship, Jim,_ he recalls growling, and then he'd tossed back yet another ill-considered mouthful of his drink. _What other ridiculously insane things, exactly, do you think I should do to achieve your standard of a life well-lived?_

Jim had pointed a daring finger at him. _You should marry me, for one_ , he suggested.

 _That would be pretty insane_ , he'd agreed dryly. Jim just grinned, winked a bloodshot eye. _Wait - what the hell are you talking about?_

 _You being more exciting, pay attention!_ And Jim leaned forward, his chair tipping forward onto the front two legs as his weight shifted clumsily. _C'mon, we totally should._

He'd leaned forward, too, and what he remembers now is feeling a tight worry in his chest, a disappointment that surprised him. _You'd be willing to marry me just to prove a point_ , he'd said flatly.

 _To prove a point, because I love you, to get you into bed-- take your pick._ Jim had looked suddenly, warily confused. _Oh shit. You don't find me attractive, do you? Fuck that, I'm not marrying you if you won't have sex with me. Deal's off._

McCoy had groaned and dropped his head forward. _Of course I'll have sex with you, Jim, jesus, couldn't you have come up with that one years ago?_

 _Me? You never -_

 _Oh, right, like you'd have noticed. I must have been about the_ only _person at the Academy you_ didn't _leer at on a daily basis._

 _Not when you were looking, anyway,_ Jim had muttered sullenly, then perked up. _Hey. Does that mean you'll do it?_

And, not for the first time when it came to an idea of Jim's, McCoy had waved a hand wearily, too drunk to bother trying to think up arguments against it. _Sure, why not?_

"You said you love me," he says now, quietly. Jim pauses, her lips still against his throat, then just hums acknowledgment and grinds down on him with a twist of her hips. "I didn't say it back."

Jim pants raggedly and moves faster. "Don't worry about it. It's okay."

"It's really not," he snaps, and pushes her back enough to catch her gaze. She goes still again, looks at him curiously. "Jim. You are the biggest pain in the ass I've ever met. No way in hell I'd agree to put up with that forever if I *didn't* love you. Understood?"

Jim swallows hard. Her eyelids flutter as McCoy begins snapping his hips up, and finally she graces him with a slow, broad, squinting smile. "Perfectly, Bones."

He draws her back down to kiss her firmly and flip her in a swift roll. "Good. And Jim?"

"Oh god. Uh. Yeah?"

"Definitely your best idea yet."


End file.
